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Bedoor Bluemoon

Everyday writing to expose the soul

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lost

The First Week on the Job- Bewildered

Bewildered

deer

Congratulations on your first job!  You are fresh in the workplace with many many many assumptions about what goes on.  You’ve been chosen from a list of candidates and impressed the bosses.  You’ve jumped through this hoops and finally got initiated into this wonderful place. Do you think it’s going to get better?  Well, it can’t possibly get worse, right?

Wrong.

Because now the real work starts, and I’m not talking about the tasks on your job description (if you’ve been given one), I’m talking about the merging of yourself with your social surroundings: your colleagues.

Similar to your first day in school, there are people who will accept you and people who wish you never set foot in the company.  There are people who will help you and people who will try to make your life a living hell.  Well, welcome to the real world, it’s a thousand times worse than school, you can’t take a sick day just to run away from a test, and above all that you’ve got your career at stake.

You will feel bewildered, lost, clueless, and will wonder what you are doing there.  You will question yourself, your knowledge and skills, your upbringing, and you will definitely have a little bit of inferiority complex to top it off.  In the end, you can use the “smile and nod” technique, play the “strong and silent” role, or chew gum.
Smile, this too shall pass.

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Confess

Confess

sunset-beach-wedding

Confess yourself:

let my eyes see what they long to see

and my ears hear your innermost desires.

Open your soul to me

watch closely as I tread into the folds of your being

and pick memory after memory to read.

 

Confess yourself:

let my being merge with yours

and my hands touch your unfulfilled dreams.

Allow my entrance

into the make-believe life you created

and water the flowers on your bed.

 

Confess yourself:

let me understand your deepest thoughts

and my soul drink from the lips of your eternity.

Allow my intrusion

for I have lost everything I am

when I found you.

 

Eyes

via Writing Prompt #381

eyes

Crumpled paper covers every flat surface of his room, he can’t get the eyes right.  He is usually very good at sketching portraits but the eyes were haunting him.  It all started one day in his dream.  He dreamed he was sitting next to the lake hand in hand with a lady dressed in a light blue dress.  She had her head covered by an over-sized hat and her delicate fingers wrapped in pink lace gloves.  Her brown hair did not move.  It was propped and primped into soft waves that cascaded around her face and framed her small features.  She was looking down at her hands and her long thick lashes set themselves ever so gently on her cheekbones.

He wondered who the lady may be but didn’t know how ask.  He was afraid to speak lest the calmness be disturbed by his voice.  He wanted to whisper her name, but what was her name?  He studied her face and the bridge of her nose while her eyelashes fluttered with the breeze.  She was exquisitely beautiful, perfect in every way imaginable to man and he wondered what she was doing with him.

He coughed gently, trying to get her attention and to feast his eyes upon her face.  He saw her cheeks rise in a smile and the glisten of her teeth between her rosy lips as she raised her face to look at his.  That’s when he saw her eyes.

He tried to sketch them again and again but nothing comes close to the captivating spell of her lashes.  Nothing comes close to the arch of her eyebrow, nothing comes close to the glimmer reflecting in her iris, and no shade of blue comes close to the depth of her inner sea.  He was mesmerized at that moment, captured in her jail and transferred to eternal salvation.  Or is it damnation?  He knew that it was then that he lost all sanity and no longer became a free man.  He knew that it was she who held the key to his heart forever.

Crumpled papers turned to canvases and walls filled with pencil sketches, oil paints, water colors, chalks, and markers.  Nothing of the ordinary seemed valuable to him anymore as he continued his search for the perfect eye.  He looked forward to sleep every night just to see her again but sleep became scarce and hope disintegrated into madness.  Madness that consumed his soul and he was left with nothing but crumpled papers and a dream.

Choices

via Writing Prompt #377

burka

He looked from one covered face to the next, trying to understand how this is all happening to him, why he is expected to choose his future wife in such a bizarre way.  His mother stood still eyeing the girls and clicking her tongue in disapproval whenever one of them looks up.  It was so sudden for Hamza, he expected to at least unpack his bags before setting off to his uncle’s house.  But no, his parents were waiting for him in the car and were determined to marry him by the end of the week.

Hamza just finished his engineering degree in Frankfurt and was having a great time when his parents called and asked him to come back home.  So soon? he asked.  You got your degree, there’s no excuse to stay.  He knew that being the perfect Muslim son meant following your parent’s wishes and so reluctantly packed his bags to go home.

But home wasn’t the same.  He didn’t know of his parent’s plan nor did he wish to indulge them into imagining that he would marry based on nothing.  He stared into the faces and thought that they were all the same.  Some of the girls were shorter, others were chubbier, yet their eyes remained set down.  He tried to think what would make a difference in a marriage and his mind took him to his cycling days on the main river where he saw old couples holding hands and walking.  He would like that, he thought to himself.  He would very much like to grow old with someone he understands and who understands him.  The problem is how can he make sure that behind burka number #1 is the right person or maybe behind burka #4 is a better fit.

His father was standing outside with his uncle chatting and laughing, not realizing that Hamza was being sent to a slaughterhouse.  His mother was tired of waiting and came over to whisper,

“my boy, choose any of the girls, they are all good Muslims.”

“but mom, how would I know if I will be happy with her?”

“you won’t know, my son.  Just choose and let us get this over with.  Your uncle thinks you should marry one of his daughters and keep the money within the family which is true.  Why marry someone poor when you can get richer as a bargain.”

Richer as a bargain, he scoffed and looked at the girls one more time.  They didn’t seem to release any hints, none looked him in the eye, and none twitched.  He sighed, here goes nothing.

He chooses quickly without understanding what his choice means, without caring that this gamble of a marriage is as successful as any.  He doesn’t care what goes on in his life after this, his society may have enforced the face covers on his cousins but his heart is forced to be covered too.  It doesn’t matter who he marries, as long as the money stays within the family.

 

The Lost Boy

(writing prompt #304. https://purpldragon.wordpress.com/2017/09/14/writing-prompt-304/)

Source: Writing Prompt #304
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He watched through the window as his mother tucked his half-sister in bed and kiss his step father goodnight, then he turned and vanished into the night.  It was a daily ritual for Tom since he ran away from his father’s house six months ago.  His father was an alcoholic who, in his opinion, probably didn’t even realize he wasn’t around.  He was living bad days and worse nights when his father would come back from the bar and wake Tom up from his sleep just to start beating him.  One night, Tom decided it was enough, he was going to go live with his mother instead.

His mother always wanted him in her life.  She never gave him up, on the contrary she fought hard to gain custody of Tom but it was all because Tom’s dad knew how to best beat the system that she lost him.  She cried so hard knowing that her ex-husband didn’t really care about Tom, he only wanted to hurt her by taking him away.

That was five years ago.

Tom lived with his dad and was neglected from day one.  He was abused verbally all the time, listening to how he was the reason his parents got a divorce and why it would have been better if he were never born.  He went to school after he made his own breakfast, changed, and packed whatever junk was available at home.  The place was a mess and Tom tried to keep it clean as hard as any eight year old boy can.  He missed his mother.

Running away was the best thing he did.  It wasn’t like he was living in a better place but at least the homeless man had more paternal instincts and started sharing everything with him.  During the day, Tom would try to sell anything to get some money and buy some food to settle his rumbling stomach and share what little he has with the homeless man.

He wanted to go directly to his mother and that’s when his new habit started.  He reached her new home at seven p.m. one night and saw her new family gathered around the dinner table.  He could smell the roasted chicken but something in him stopped him from ringing the doorbell.  He didn’t want to ruin the beautiful picture with his dirty boots and jacket.  From then on, he continued to watch his mother live her life while he lived his.  She never saw him behind the bushes.

One day, Tom fell asleep watching his mother and step dad watching a movie.  He wanted to feel as if he were a part of her life again.  He sat down and watched from afar until his eyelids could no longer stay open.

He woke up the next morning indoors, on a bed, and with mother’s arms around him.  He knew her smell very well and couldn’t believe it.  He turned around and saw her smiling into his face.

“How long have you known that I’m watching?”

“Just last night.  Do you think I’d let you go if I ever found you?”

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